


Call Out Whose Name?

by eliospiano



Category: Unspecified Fandom
Genre: Angst, Armieisjealous, DrunkArmie, Longing, M/M, MysteryofLove, Theymisseachother, Timmyisimpulsive, WillAddMoreTagsIfStoryContinues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 05:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14325909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliospiano/pseuds/eliospiano
Summary: Timmy posts a video of ‘Mystery if Love’ playing. It’s been 2 weeks since he and Armie have talked and he’s going a little insane...





	Call Out Whose Name?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of FICTION :)  
> Coachella isn’t a thing in this story. I might continue this, might not. I love both of these people so much irl and I respect them a ton.

April 15, 2018

The ride to the party from the eighteen million dollar mansion is a short one, but one entranced with an assortment of songs shuffled through my phone’s library . I skip not one, nor two, but three songs, when one i’d been avoiding flows through the car speakers. I’d skip it, but my fingers are unwilling.  
Abel’s head snaps to me, a knowing look crossing his face. We’d become friends quickly, both of us with an interest in film and music and just the vibe of each other. We liked to hang out. The cool thing about our friendship was that he always seemed to know what was going through my head, and I his. We could have a whole conversation without words, and he never judged my choices. He knew from the second the song began to play that I wasn’t in the car anymore.  
My mind was flowing through the air, across the way, to him. To someone I hadn’t contacted or been contacted by in over 2 weeks. Over the last 2 years we’d talked everyday, sometimes throughout the day. And now? Not a word.  
Even still, he clouded my thoughts. He overtook my mind when something simple would remind me of him. The scratchy carpet my feet slid over in my hotel room reminding me of the scruff of his face. The smell of wine drifting across a restaurant taking me back to endless dinners when we’d share a bottle. And of course, the sound of a song we’d shared would make me think of every part of him. Of every moment we’d spent together. It was moments like these that made me question my strength. It was times like these that I could feel my bones threatening to break along with my already tattered heart. To say I was invested was the understatement of an eternity.  
Before I notice what i’m doing, exactly, i’m videoing the song playing, posting it. A small letter to him. To hopefully, or maybe not, make him remember who he is. To make him wonder why we’ve stopped talking. To have him miss me; it’s a selfish thought, but one I can’t shake.  
We turn into the driveway of the home whose owner I haven’t met yet. Judging by the number of people here I assume I won’t be stuck in my emotions for long (at least not without a drink).  
A couple of hours later i’m in the backyard of the overly intricate home, and having only had one cup of alcohol, my brain is still fully intact. I’ve met probably a hundred new people, most who have seemed really nice. A few of them said they knew me, and even congratulated me on my accomplishments. I’m always extremely humbled when people know me, and it’s still surprising when they do.  
Now, I take a seat at the edge of the property line of the house, a layered brick wall with only green below. My feet hang off of the side, and I grab my phone, which has blown up with more notifications than I had seen in a while about the song I had posted. One notification caught my eye in particular, and it wasn’t from social media.

(1) Missed Call from “Hammer”

He’d hated that I put that instead of “Armie”, but I loved it. Luca made an awful joke once about how the sequel should be called “Call Me by Your Last Name”, but Oliver never had a last name. I guess after making fun of Armie by calling him Hammer so many times, it sort of stuck.  
My heart churns in my chest and the emptiness that has been clawing my stomach for the past 2 weeks subsides for a moment. I’m redialing him instantly, just wanting to hear his voice.  
“Timmy?”, he picks up on the fourth ring,  
“Sorry dude I um, had to use t-the bathroom so I almost missed your...call”, he’s rambling, obviously drunk.  
“Armie? Armie are you oka-“, I go to say but he cuts me off.  
“It’s so good to hear you speak”, his honesty catches me for a loop, and my stomach flips.  
“Yea man”, I sigh in adoration,” Yea it’s good to hear your voice too.”  
“You haven’t called in weeks”, his tone isn’t accusing, but it’s hurt nonetheless. I hate to hear him this way and I want to tell him he could have called me, but drunk Armie isn’t someone to argue with.  
“I know- I-I’m sorry it’s just been a crazy few weeks. Where are you?”, I ask him.  
“You know, I miss you”, he confesses, his words soft and a little slurred.  
“A lot”, he adds, and i know his head is leaned back, and that he’s smiling with his mouth closed in the goofy way that he does. This is all I had wanted; just for him to be reminded of what wasn’t in his life anymore. I was beginning to feel like I never mattered at all, and that maybe everything between us was all in my head.  
“I miss you too”, is all I can manage without breaking. Who would have thought he’d be the one drunk calling me? I figured it would be the other way around.  
“Where are you?”, I ask again.  
“My hotel room”, he’s been shooting a movie in New Orleans for the past week.  
“Why are you drinking so much?”  
“Just because.”  
“Oh, don’t give me that, you never drink that much alone”, I begin to wonder if it’s Elizabeth and if they were fighting again.  
He’s very quiet for a minute, the only sounds over the line are his breathing and the sound of a bottle settling onto a table of some sort. He breathes out heavily.  
“Saw your video earlier.” Dead silence.  
“Oh.”  
“I guess it had the affect you were hoping it would”, this time his tone is accusatory, but still soft as if he was upset but not actually mad. I don’t know what to say. We’ve never talked about anything pertaining to us that wasn’t brotherly, but with the alcohol in his veins and teetering on the edge of sanity, I’m worried he’s taking this somewhere else.  
“Oh”, I seem to lose my whole vocabulary.  
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Abel?”, he asks even though he knows. I think I hear jealousy in his voice but I could be wrong.  
“Yea, we’ve been hanging out. He’s cool”, I defend him.  
“Hm, nice”, he over annunciates the last word and it almost sounds like he’s making fun of me. Who is this and what have they done with Armie?  
Silence again. The sound of a bottle top falling to the floor.  
“You should stop drinking”, is an in instinctive thing for me to say, but it flies out of my mouth anyways.  
“You should join me.” He says it like it’s the only thing he’s thought of for the last week.  
“You know I’m nowhere near you, Armie”, he’s exasperating sometimes. He’s never been so loose before unless it was in Crema. This version of him sounds more flirtatious than my normal Armie. He’d left that flirty part of us back in Crema along with the best 6 weeks of my life. Ever since then it’s been occasional longing looks but nothing more.  
I hear the click of a lighter, and this worries me because he doesn’t do well when he mixes pot with alcohol and he does it anyway.  
“It’s just a cigarette T”, he relays like he could hear my thoughts. Bastard.  
“Maybe you should get some sleep”, I tell him.  
“I don’t think I could now.”  
“Why not?”  
“I’m too awake from talking to you I guess.” He sounds tired, maybe a little sad.  
I don’t like his tone, and I long to have his long arms wrapped around me.  
“Where are you?”, he asks after a while.  
“No where important. At a party”  
“Jesus Timmy go enjoy yourself you don’t have to talk to me i’m probably killing your time there.”  
“Talking to you has been the best thing about this day so I think i’d rather stay on the phone than spend time with a bunch of strangers”, I didn’t realize that’s how I felt but as the words roll off of my tongue I realize it’s all true.  
He sighs loudly, something I’ve grown accustomed to.  
“What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing T, don’t worry about it.”  
I hate when he tries to cover things from me like they’re nothing when they obviously bug him so much. I find that this one conversation has mended any of the lost time from the last two weeks. We talk like we’ve been talking all along. Except, now he’s still slightly drunk and more open.  
That thing between us where we don’t need words happens and he eventually cracks.  
“Fine, God. I don’t know I just.. I just haven’t been super happy lately. And I miss you, Us I mean, and I just-“, but he stops. I need him to finish his sentence.  
“You just what?”, I kick my feet up from the wall, let them wiggle in the air. I notice how full the moon is.  
“I just wish you were here with me.” He wants to kill me, I know he does. Why does he have to do this now? Of all times. I don’t want this to go anywhere that it shouldn’t because he’d probably regret it tomorrow, so I remain as friendly as I can.  
“Me too brother.”  
He sucks air through his teeth. I’ve hit a nerve.  
“You don’t get it.”  
“I don’t get what?” I don’t know if I want to hear what he had to say or not because if he crosses some sort of line I don’t know where to go from there.  
“Nevermind Timothee, forget it. I’ll call you tomorrow.”  
“No Armie wa-“, but he’s ended the call.  
“Fuck!”, I half yell to avoid attention to myself.  
I get up, dusting off my black jeans and make my way inside, already calling an uber.  
I know what I need to do.


End file.
